Zelgadis and the Holy Sword
by Kuroneko19
Summary: While searching for a cure in the Desert of Destruction, Zelgadis encounters a rather, ahem, "interesting" magical artifact.
1. Part 1

_**Author's Note: **__This was an idea that I've kept stashed away for the longest time, and was finally able to write it out. Not long after the events of __**Slayers TRY**__, Zelgadis traverses through the Desert of Destruction in search of a cure for his chimerism. While we know this proves to be a futile effort, nobody ever elaborates as to what his adventures were during the time he was on his own. Hence my own little joke of an idea as to what might have happened if he were to have encountered a rather, hehe, __**annoying**__ ancient artifact. _

_Let me know what you think! Please remember: all questions, comments, constructive criticism, and/or suggestions are welcome and appreciated. Thank you!_

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>__ I do not own anything from either __**Slayers **__or __**Soul Eater**__. I just like to write. ^_^_

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><p><strong>Zelgadis and the Holy Sword<br>**By Kuroneko

***~Part 1~***

Months of searching in the Desert of Destruction had turned up nothing. Barren wasteland, scorching hot sands, and the unrelenting, blazing sun were all thrown at him without resistance. Even given his constitution, the ivory-cloaked wanderer soon felt the effects of lonely desert travel.

And yet onward he trudged, for Zelgadis Greywers was a man hell-bent and determined to do so. Once an ordinary young man, now condemned by his renowned great-grandfather Rezo the Red Priest to wander as a three-part chimera consisting of his original human self combined with a golem and a brau demon, his sole purpose in life was to find a cure to his "affliction".

But the times and trials of being a lone wolf took their toll, and it wasn't long after splitting from the companions he felt inwardly grateful to have that he'd begun to think he oughtn't have left so abruptly and secretively. Sneaking out in the dead of night without so much as a spoken goodbye had been cold, true, but that was his nature. Only now his nature seemed to have been the precursor to his own downfall, as fatigue and dehydration began to make themselves known. He might have cast Aqua Create to quench his thirst as he'd continuously done over the past few months, but with minimal food rations left at his disposal, evident lack of sleep, and trying to maintain a minute Gray Buster to keep himself cool in the sun's harsh rays… needless to say, further spell casting would be far more difficult than usual.

The days and nights began to blur, and all his destinations faded in the background. Twice in his travels he'd chanced upon a caravan of nomads, all heading for a city farther on in the southern part of the continent. He vaguely remembered the faces of those who felt courageous enough to speak to him – to be honest, Zelgadis thought they all looked to be the same, what with the dark hair, tanned skin, and linen clothes they all wrapped themselves in.

But one thing did stand out, and it was that one thing that Zelgadis clung to as he marched onward into the increasingly chilly desert night. One night two months ago, sitting far from the campfires of one of the nomad groups that had taken him in shortly before he could officially collapse from exhaustion, one of the tribe leaders sat with him and talked. It was a pleasant chat, made all the more tolerable by the surprising amount of wines kept in their provisions. At some point of the duration of their encounter, the tribal leader, a deep-voiced man who called himself Azarel, told him of an ancient desert legend, handed down in the tradition of oral narration.

The legend spoke of a sword. Not just any sword, mind, but a _holy_ sword; one that could pierce the heavens and grant unto its wielder any power he may desire. Azarel called the sword "Excalibur", and claimed that it lay somewhere deep in the Desert of Destruction, near to where the feared (and now thankfully dead) Hellmaster Phibrizzo resided in his dark and twisted lair.

It was with a slightly subdued tone, however, that Azarel warned Zelgadis of further things mentioned in the legend: from all their ancient stories, the Holy Sword Excalibur had been taken by Hellmaster and sealed away until the Dark Lord's demise. With the dissolution of the Mazoku Barrier and Phibrizzo's death, it was said that the cavern holding the mighty sword would be condemned to disappearing after a visitation and reappearing in an entirely different location until it was at long last back in its original resting place. As far as anyone knew, no one had seen the Holy Sword since Hellmaster's death.

It was that tale that Zelgadis clung to in his newfound journey. From the drunken ramblings of Azarel later on in the night, the chimera had concluded that Excalibur was a sentient being, and therefore capable not only of independent will and thought, but also possibly magic, and _holy magic_ at that. For what other reason would it be called a holy sword?

**…**

He gave a low whistle as he looked upward. This was most assuredly the strangest location he'd encountered thus far in this wretched desert, but he couldn't deny it was a welcome change of scenery. The oasis at the base was a relief to his weary and parched body, and the trees provided a decent bit of shade from the blazing orb overhead.

But that wasn't what Zelgadis was primarily focused on. It was the cavern carved into the side of the cliff the oasis was settled at the base of. In all his travels, he'd never seen this kind of a cavern in the side of a desert cliff. It looked as though it belonged in a mountain range, surrounded by trees.

Not only that, but there was an odd sort of aura permeating from within that he couldn't quite describe.

Was this it? Was this the cavern of Exaclibur the Holy Sword?

Zelgadis looked around warily, sapphire eyes narrowed with sudden misgiving. He'd long ago learned that it was foolish to simply waltz into a situation with unfounded optimism. Granted, searching in the Desert of Destruction was likely a fool's errand in its own right, but his stubborn nature would not allow him a single avenue unexplored. Should this truly be the cavern of the Holy Sword, that would only mean Hellmaster's lair would be close by.

But all around him there was nothing but the continuous waves of golden sand and a skyline that would grow faint as the afternoon faded (for it was indeed afternoon, given the wretched sun's position. Dimensional pockets were truly a gift from the sages). Nowhere in his line of sight was there any indication of a building or even strange outcropping. Based on his experiences with the Controller of Death, Zelgadis was inclined to believe that Phibrizzo would have created his base with a warped sense of grandeur and self-superiority. The temple he'd erected for himself in Sairaag was enough evidence of the crazed Dark Lord's flair for presence and effects.

But his heightened uncertainty would not be assuaged. For all he knew, Phibrizzo may indeed have erected a wonderfully elaborate and complex labyrinth of a base – _underground_. Insane though he assuredly was, Hellmaster has still been a genius.

He backtracked and took a drink from the oasis, and leaned up against a nearby tree to rest himself. Before long, Zelgadis fell asleep, though the demonic aspect of himself remained alert to his surroundings.

It was definitely a good trait to be in ownership of when traveling alone. At the very least, it kept him alive.


	2. Part 2

_**Author's Note:**__ Xellos wasn't originally supposed to appear, but I couldn't resist – it went too perfectly with the storyline. LOL_

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><p><strong>*~Part 2~*<strong>

It was an annoyingly bright and scorching morning that Zelgadis awoke to following his much-needed slumber. As if to add to irritation of his overly sensitive eyes, the black-cloaked figure hunched over the waters of oasis turned in his direction and gave him an ever-irritating smile.

"You're the _last_ person I want to see in the morning," the shaman growled as he sat up, and shielded his eyes as the bright rays struck them dead-on.

"What a rude thing to say," the figure in black and tan remarked airily. He stood at full length and turned in the chimera's direction. He was merely a silhouette against the sunlight, but Zelgadis didn't need to see to know who owned that annoying nasal voice. The grin alone was a dead giveaway.

"What do you _want_, Xellos?"

The Trickster Priest raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Why should ever I need an excuse to pay a visit to an old acquaintance? Is it a crime to visit a friend when he's alone and wandering aimlessly in such a vast and unwelcoming place?" He gestured at the sand dunes for emphasis.

Zelgadis sneered in response. "Give it a rest. I already know that you never show up unless you have a reason to, and unless Lina's somewhere around here, it must mean you have an assignment."

The Cheshire grin slipped a little. "It wouldn't hurt you to be even a _little_ pleasant."

"To _you_ it would."

"Touché." The trickster's grin returned, much to Zelgadis' annoyance. Straightening out his cloak as he rose, he swept past the human-guised Mazoku and knelt to take a drink in hopes of relieving the sensation that he had a desert forming in his mouth (and with all the sand that had likely flown into his mouth as he slept, he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised).

The water was still cool from the night prior, and felt good against his parched throat. He splashed a decent amount onto his face and not caring as it seeped into the cowl of his shirt. Even against his stone skin, the water was a godsend.

After a moment of appreciating the much-needed sensation of rehydration, he straightened himself out and look upward towards the strange precipice.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you…" He turned and found Xellos no longer grinning quite so smugly.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

The grin returned, though considerably more malicious. "You wouldn't happen to be in search of the legendary 'Holy Sword', Zelgadis…?"

Here, the shaman raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean you actually _know_ about this thing?"

He could have sworn he saw the priest's eyebrow twitch.

"Let's just say," he said a bit awkwardly, "the Holy Sword and I are old… _acquaintances_."

The look on his face was sour, yet somehow brimming with amusement at the same time. Just that look on _anyone _was bad enough, but to find it on _Xellos_…

"Just what do you know about the Holy Sword, anyway?"

"It is an ancient relic that supposedly holds an intellect on a level higher than the Claire Bible," responded the priest. "It's for this reason, they say, that Lord Hellmaster decided to take it for himself in hopes of destroying the world. However…"

"However…?" Zelgadis prompted, suspicion running high. Xellos divulging information willingly was far too strange in his book.

The Trickster Priest chuckled darkly. "However, no one has been able to… _harness_ the Holy Sword's power. If you think you can do so, please feel free to try." He swept a bow while wearing a newfound smirk.

Zelgadis harrumphed and turned away. He was too wrapped up in his usual resentment of Lord Beastmaster's second-in-command that he didn't hear the Mazoku mutter, _"After all, Lord Hellmaster certainly couldn't."_

After a moment, he turned to ask the purple nuisance another question, only to find said nuisance no longer there.

"Typical," he snorted, and turned back to look at the cavern above. "_Levitation!_"

That fruitcake of a Mazoku – just what was the point of him randomly showing up like that? Zelgadis couldn't help but fathom the reason behind the self-proclaimed Trickster Priest's appearance. His dealings with the purple-headed nuisance never extended beyond his travels with Lina and the others, being as Xellos' primary interests tended to be focused solely on the fiery redhead. As far Zelgadis knew, Xellos only showed up _because_ of Lina. It was understandable: no other human currently in existence wielded the power of the Lord of Nightmares and continued to walk this world, at least not to their knowledge.

So why choose to show himself all of a sudden? After that mess with Dark Star, it was a reasonable assumption that Xellos would vanish into the woodwork for a good long time before anything else monumentally catastrophic occurred. And why to Zelgadis? Was he that _close_ to Hellmaster's lair? Or did Xellos have (horror of horrors) time off?

Whatever the reason, Zelgadis chose to shove it in the back of his mind. As soon as his feet touched onto the heated rock of the ledge, he strode directly into the cavern, conjuring up a Lighting orb as he stepped into the darkness.


	3. Part 3

***~Part 3~***

It was dark, to be certain. Dark, surprisingly cool, and… _wet_.

As he splashed along in the calf-deep water, Zelgadis couldn't help but look around with puzzlement clearly etched onto his face. How could anywhere located in the Desert of Destruction have water and not be an oasis? For that matter, how was it that this cavern wasn't stifling hot like all the others he'd encountered?

Well, it was certainly strange; strange enough to make him think that perhaps that little encounter with Xellos hadn't been purely coincidental (and _any_ encounter with Xellos was far from being in the realms of coincidence). Oh, no. Zelgadis must have come across something interesting to have warranted the Trickster Priest's attention. _And if it had anything to do with the Holy Sword Excalibur…_

Zelgadis continued on along the darkened natural corridor, every inch of his being tensed in suspicion and slight excitement. His mind had long treaded into thought, this time concerning the rationale behind Hellmaster Phibrizzo's ownership of the supposedly sacred item.

According to Azarel, Excalibur was an exalted artifact, suspected to be a gift left over from Ceipheid before he fell into the Sea of Chaos during the Shinma War. Considering that aspect of the legend, it made sense to think that the Holy Sword would possess tremendous power. And power to that extent would naturally attract the Monster Race.

In particular Hellmaster Phibrizzo, he thought with a frown before nearly tripping over an unseen rock. That crazed Controller of Death was obsessed with power; obsessed with power _that could potentially destroy the world_. It was for that reason alone that he'd essentially stalked Lina Inverse nearly two years ago.

Zelgadis didn't even bother to suppress the shudder that came over him. He'd never openly admit it to anyone, but he still had nightmares about that night in Sairaag – _dead_ Sairaag.

A bright light up ahead pulled him away from his troubling thoughts. He canceled the Lighting spell and put a hand on the hilt of his sword, the other tensed in case he had to hurdle a quick spell for self-defense.

As it turned out, he needed neither: as soon as he stepped into the chamber where the light came from, his tension rapidly turned into excitement as he saw in the center a small kind of island with a stone in the middle.

And there, shoved directly into the stone itself, was the Holy Sword Excalibur.

It had to be. What other sword would shine so brightly, and glean despite the dimness of the cavern? It was what gave off the inexplicable light, and in that light Zelgadis could sense the sheer power emitting from it as well.

Without any further thinking, he made his way up to the island and stepped up to the mound. One half-gloved hand reached out for the hilt, and the next thing he knew, Zelgadis was pulling the sword out…


	4. Part 4

***~Part 4~***

It sufficed to say that Zelgadis hadn't the slightest notion what to expect when he wrapped his fingers around the legendary Holy Sword. One thing was for certain, though: the royal fanfare and brilliant flash of light _wasn't_ on the list.

Nor was the thing that looked back at him once he blinked past the multiple dots that flickered across his eyes from the sudden flash.

Part of him want to laugh. Another part of him was wondering if Xellos had played a trick on him or cast some kind of bizarre spell while he was sleeping. Either way, the prevailing reaction was stunned silence.

It was totally white, with only large black dots for eyes, and wore a tall white hat and coat. It leaned against a white cane, and sported an upturned snout that made him wonder vaguely if it was somehow related to a mutated aardvark. Either that or it was the product of a spell-cast-wrong.

Whatever it was, _it couldn't have been Excalibur!_

"Greetings, weary traveler! Please forgive me for not announcing my presence earlier – it would seem the spell from Hellmaster Phibrizzo is still in effect."

It… spoke. For the love of Shabranigdo, that ridiculous _thing_ could _talk_? Zelgadis wondered for a moment if Xellos had slipped something in the water before he woke up.

"It is clear that you have come to bask in my glory!"

Zelgadis blinked, finding the cane now being waved in his face.

"E-excuse me?" he spat, somehow having regained the ability to speak.

"Fool!" the _thing_ snapped, the cane waving even closer. "There are no excuses!"

"What?"

The _thing_ pranced about in a circle before pointing the end of its cane back in the chimera's direction. "You, who have traveled far – you seek fortune, do you not?"

"Well…" Lina came to mind instantly. Fortune was nice, certainly, but that wasn't his primary goal.

"You seek fame, do you not?" Again, Lina.

"You seek the wisdom of the ages? The ability to make anything possible? To make dreams and desires come true?"

"YES!" He yelled. "What I want is –"

"My legend dates back to the twelfth century," the _thing_ interrupted.

"Huh…?" Zelgadis stood stupefied.

"You wish to acquire my infinite knowledge and vast reaches of power, do you not?" inquired the _thing_.

Zelgadis resisted the urged to slap himself. "If it means I'll be able to get my body back, I'll do any –"

"I only drink coffee in the mornings."

The urge to slap his forehead was immediately obeyed. _'What the hell is this thing, and what idiot of a Dark Lord came up with it? Deep Sea Dolphin?'_ Given the rumored insanity of the Dark Lord residing within the depths of the Demon Sea, Zelgadis was inclined to think such was the case.

"Fool!"

Zelgadis peeked through his fingers irritably, the vague notion of throwing a nice Fireball currently being entertained in the back of his head. "Who are you calling a fool?"

The cane was once again in his face.

"Ignorance is unbecoming of one who seeks the path of heroes and kings," said the _thing_.

"Who said anything about any of that?" Zelgadis snapped. "The only thing I want is find a way to turn my body back to normal!"

The _thing_ did not lower its cane, though it did not speak. Instead, it seemed to regard the shaman with its large black eyes, as if considering something.

"A form is merely something on the outside. It is the spirit within that matters most."

Zelgadis blinked. "Wait, what did you just –?"

"A refreshing morning should be started with a refreshing greeting."

He groaned. This was getting him nowhere!

'_That's it!' _he told himself angrily, spinning on his heel and stalking back into the waters leading to the outside of the cavern. _'Holy Sword? Yeah, right! I stand a better chance at finding Dynast Grausherra's lair in the North than I do finding some ancient, legendary artifact!'_

"In order to obtain my power, you must agree to one thousand required actions."

Zelgadis froze. He turned. The _thing_ looked back at him, somehow radiating seriousness despite still looking utterly ridiculous.

"Only one thousand requirements?" he mused aloud.

Well, he'd done worse in his past.

**…**

Soon after, Zelgadis began to realize his mistake.

Oh yes, that atrocity in white was indeed the mystical Holy Sword Excalibur; how could he possibly forget the fact when it was repeatedly shoved in his face every waking moment?

Deep Sea Dolphin creating this atrocity had long since left his mind – if anything, Excalibur as more likely to be the living testament that Hellmaster Phibrizzo had delved deeper into the multifaceted universe of psychological warfare than anyone had realized.

And likely, Hellmaster discovered too late that perhaps he'd gone a bit _too _far. Zelgadis could quite honestly see why Hellmaster chose to lock this abomination away, never to be unleashed upon the world. If Xellos' facial expression from before had been any indication, Excalibur was a menace to _all_ living creatures _including_ the Monster Race. Azarel had to have been mistaken when he'd indicated that the Holy Sword was a gift of the gods. This thing was a nightmare!

"… and that concludes my exploits with the late King Arthur."

Zelgadis let out a relieved sigh. The five-hour-long recitations of "Excalibur's Noble History" were daily ritualistic torture; he was certain it was devised to morph the mind and distort it beyond its limitations.

And then there were the nine hundred and ninety-nine _other _requirements. Some of Excalibur's demands were acceptable. A hero never telling a lie he could understand, though he failed to see a reason as to why he needed to walk three steps behind the Holy Sword if they were to ever travel. Others Zelgadis found stupid, such as the rule about first class postage (or whatever he'd said – Zelgadis had never heard of such a thing). And others still he found… _ridiculous_, for lack of a better word.

The five-hour-long dissertations were ridiculous, among other rules the chimera had chosen to momentarily banish from his mind for the time being.

And then there was that _song_.

Zelgadis had heard this abominable tune not long after he'd agreed to Excalibur's requirements. It consisted of a horribly choreographed little dance that involved waving and spinning that stupid cane, and lyrics that mentioned somewhere called the "United Kingdom" and another place called "California". The former caused Zelgadis to believe that the weapon was speaking of the Alliance of Coastal Nations, though they were hardly what one might have considered "united"; of California, Zelgadis had no idea where it was, and settled for the idea that it lay somewhere in the outer provinces.

"And now…"

He cringed, awaiting for the inevitable song and dance act. How many days had he been in this damned cavern?

"It is time for us to take out leave."

"Huh?" was the only reaction Zelgadis could muster. After all this time, all these stupid requirements, it was time to _leave_? Seriously? What was the hitch?

Excalibur hopped down from the stone in the center of the tiny island they were at in the cave and approached Zelgadis jauntily.

"We are leaving," said the Holy Sword, sounding very much pleased. "Come! We must now venture forth on the path of heroes and kings!"

A bright light shone, practically blinding the chimera. At first he was hesitant. But the light drew him, and soon he was holding the sword he'd pulled out of the stone earlier.

_It was his! Excalibur was his! All the holy power, the sword granted from the gods! And it belonged to him, Zelgadis Greywers!_

He raised it over his head, and arced it. And in one swift movement he…


	5. Part 5

***~Part 5~***

Plunged it right back into the sword from whence it came.

He ignored the increasingly loud protests coming from the sword as he stalked towards the exit. He'd come in search of his cure – once upon a _human_ memory, he'd have been easily seduced by the temptation of power befitting heroes and kings. But power was what had caused all this trouble in the first place.

In the time he'd been there, Zelgadis knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Holy Sword Excalibur could not cure him. and even if it could have, there was no way in the Nine Hells that Zelgadis would have take the abomination _anywhere_ with him.

**…**

Zelgadis considered himself lucky to have escaped with his sanity afterwards, days following his march out of the cavern. For whatever reason that abominable weapon had been created, he was certain that the mage either hadn't full use of his mental facilities or the damned thing was most assuredly a mistake.

The only sobering issue at hand was that, yet again, this had been a false lead, and now he was forced to continue his search in the scorching sands of the Desert of Destruction. But given what all had transpired… Zel was perfectly happy just to have his mind intact for the time being. Even if he _was_ getting dehydrated again.

So long as he didn't have nightmares afterwards, that is. If _that_ were to happen… Ceipheid help him.

The sooner he forgot about this encounter… the better.

**…**

On the Astral Plane, where no human eyes may pry nor sense what danger may be lurking near, Xellos the Trickster Priest sat back and smiled, amethyst shard-like eyes glittering happily as the cavern holding the legendary Holy Sword Excalibur fizzled and vanished from the Desert of Destruction without even leaving a trace on either plane.

"Well, that takes care of that nuisance," he remarked to himself pleasantly. "Lord Beastmaster will pleased that the Holy Sword has begun its winding path back to its origin." He nodded with satisfaction, then snickered at the sight of Zelgadis storming off.

"Of course, I _would_ apologize, Zelgadis," said the Trickster Priest, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat and remaining unseen by the shaman. "But, you see, it was a necessity that I use you. After all, the Holy Sword would never let _me_ near him. I wonder how your time with him went."

He cringed a little at the memory of the Holy Sword, and then laughed.

"Ah, well. There are other things on Lord Beastmaster's to-do list," he mused, walking along the path of the Astral Plane and consulting the small scroll that he held in his hand. "Now, what is this about a marquess?"

**…**

It wasn't long after that the cavern reappeared, this time in the mist-enshrouded country somewhere in the Alliance of Coastal States. It was only by chance that the small figure's nightly ruminations were interrupted by the eerie glow that suddenly came off to the side as he moped along the deserted outer streets of his hometown.

A sewn-on eyebrow rose, and his head cocked to the side, one hand-like ear raised in suspicion and curiosity. Without any further thought other than the pondering of this strange phenomenon, he stepped into the cavern.

Not even half an hour later there was a loud blast, followed by shrill wailing as the tiny stuffed animal went shooting out of the cavern, which promptly disappeared shortly thereafter.

**…**

**3 Months Later…**

"C'mon, Gourry! Get the lead out of it!" The fiery sorceress tapped one white-booted foot impatiently as she stood at the top of the precipice with her hands on her hips. Long and wild red hair whipped about her face as the wind blew, only enhancing the frightening aura she was giving off. She was a beauty in her own mind, and a right terror to all those unfortunate to cross her path.

That was the thought going through the oft-thought empty mind of the blond swordsman who desperately grasped the edge and hauled himself up, wheezing as he did so.

"Honestly, Lina," he panted, giving her a long-suffered look past his long bangs. "If you could Levitate all the way up here, why couldn't you have carried me?"

Lina Inverse tossed her hair back, affronted. "Would you quit complaining? You're a big and tough guy. Besides, I thought you _liked_ all that muscle work."

"Yeah, but not when it comes to rock-climbing," he muttered to himself, and shuddered inwardly. There were days when he wondered why he ever decided to protect the girl in the first place. She wasn't any ordinary teen – she was Lina Inverse! The Bandit Killer, the Enemy of All Who Live!

And the Eventual Death of Gourry Gabriev, if she continued to drag him to all four corners of the former Mazoku Barrier, he thought bitterly.

"Put a lid on it and get a move-on, will you? If this place is as unstable as everybody thinks it is, then I don't want to be here when it disappears again!"

It was in this command that Lina Inverse sounded most authoritative, but it was used mostly to conceal her nearly bursting excitement. How could anyone _not_ be, she rationalized. If a vast and mysterious cavern suddenly materialized high above a local mountain community on the border of Elmekia, who _wouldn't _want to go exploring?

Perhaps she ought to have been more cautious, she would think later in retrospect. With the Mazoku Barrier gone and the many outside elements now free to venture forth on nothing more than a whim, it was a logical assumption that there would be a great many mysterious things happening as time progressed.

But forethought was not the Bandit Killer's specialty, and as she dragged her blond companion mercilessly by the hair into the mysterious cavern, she never even gave a single thought to what may be there in the darkness.

***~The End~***

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><p><em><strong>AN:**__ And that concludes __**Zelgadis and the Holy Sword**__. Special thanks to all of you who took to the time to read this little fic! Sayonara!_


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